Edith Stein

First published Wed Mar 18, 2020

Edith Stein (1891–1942) was a realist phenomenologist associated
with the Göttingen school and later a Christian metaphysician.
She was a Jew who converted to Catholicism in 1922 and was ordained a
Carmelite nun in 1933. She died in Auschwitz in 1942. She was
subsequently declared a Catholic martyr and saint. She campaigned
publicly on issues relating to women’s rights and education.
Stein is known philosophically primarily for her phenomenological work
on empathy and affectivity, her contributions as research assistant to
Edmund Husserl, and her philosophical anthropology. She was in
discussion with leading philosophers of her day, including Husserl,
Scheler, Heidegger, Conrad-Martius, Ingarden, and Maritain. Her work
contains original approaches to empathy, embodiment, the emotions,
personhood, collective intentionality, and the nature of the state. In
her later work, Stein developed an original philosophy of being and
essence that integrated Husserlian phenomenology and Thomist
metaphysics.

1. Life and Work

Edith Stein was born on 12 October 1891 into a bourgeois Jewish family
in Breslau, Prussia (now Wroclaw, Poland). Her father died when she
was two, leaving her mother to run the family business—a
lumberyard—while raising seven children. Edith attended local
school and then the Victoria Gymnasium in Breslau. Having graduated
first in her class in the Abitur in 1911, Stein entered the University
of Breslau to study psychology. Her professors included William Stern
and Richard Hönigswald. Another professor, Georg Moskiewicz,
introduced her to Husserl’s Logical Investigations and
remarked that in Göttingen the students philosophize day and
night and talk only of the phenomenon. Inspired, she transferred to
Göttingen in 1913. There she became an active member of the
Göttingen Philosophical Society, that included Reinach, Ingarden,
and Conrad-Martius. In Göttingen she also attended
Scheler’s lectures, which left a deep impression. Stein
approached Husserl to write a doctorate on phenomenology, and his
initial reaction was to recommend instead that she sit the state
teaching examination. However, encouraged by Reinach, she completed
her thesis in summer 1916 and graduated summa cum laude for
her dissertation, Das Einfühlungsproblem in seiner
historischen Entwicklung und in phänomenologischer
Betrachtung (The Empathy Problem as it Developed Historically and
Considered Phenomenologically), part of which was published as Zum
Problem der Einfühlung (On the Problem of Empathy;
Stein 1917).

When Reinach died in the Great War in 1917, Stein helped edit his
collected writings. She then worked as Husserl’s first paid
assistant from October 1916 until February 1918, when she resigned in
frustration. She transcribed and edited, with major interventions,
Husserl’s research manuscripts, including Ideas II
(finally published in 1952), and his Lectures on the Consciousness
on Internal Time (1905–1917), that was eventually brought
to press by Heidegger in 1928 (with only the slightest acknowledgment
of Stein’s involvement). Stein’s letters to Ingarden
reveal that she was unable to interest Husserl in her revisions.

Stein campaigned to be allowed to register for a Habilitation,
hitherto denied to women. She applied to Göttingen in 1919 but
was rejected. Husserl’s letter of recommendation of 6 February
1919 (Husserl 1994: 548–549) was not particularly supportive.
She wrote a major study intended as her Habilitation thesis,
Beiträge zur philosophischen Begründung der Psychologie
und der Geisteswissenschaften (1922), published in
Husserl’s Jahrbuch.

Failing to find a mentor for her Habilitation, Stein returned to
Breslau to offer private philosophical tutorials. Stein’s close
friends there were the phenomenologists Theodor Conrad and Hedwig
Martius. At their home, Stein read St. Theresa of Avila’s
autobiography and immediately felt she had found the truth. She soon
converted to Catholicism. Her conversion deeply disappointed her
mother and many of her Jewish friends.

She began studying Thomas Aquinas intensely and translated his De
Veritate (Stein 2008a,b). In 1930 she sought again to register
for the Habilitation, contacting Heidegger at Freiburg, who was
reasonably supportive. By 1931 she had completed a new Habilitation
thesis Potency and Act (1931). However, she was appointed to
a teaching post at the German Institute for Scientific Pedagogy in
Münster, which disrupted her Habilitation plans. She also thought
the work inadequate and embarked on a new study, Finite and
Eternal Being (1950/2006).

Following the rise to power of the National Socialists in Germany, on
19 April 1933 Stein, because of her Jewish descent, was dismissed from
her position in Münster. In October 1933, she entered the
Carmelite convent at Cologne. In April 1934, she entered the
novitiate, taking the religious name Teresa Benedicta of the Cross
(Teresia Benedicta a Cruce). In 1938, Stein was transferred for safety
to the Carmelite convent at Echt, Holland. There she wrote her two
most important theological treatises, The Science of the
Cross (2003) and Ways to Know God (1993).

The condemnation of Nazi anti-Semitism by the Dutch bishops, on 26
July 1942, provoked the German authorities to arrest non-Aryan Roman
Catholics. With her sister Rosa, also a Catholic convert, Teresa
Benedicta was arrested in Echt by the Gestapo on 2 August 1942 and
shipped to Auschwitz concentration camp, arriving on August 7. She
died with her sister Rosa on 9 August 1942. Survivors of the death
camp testified that she assisted other sufferers with great
compassion. At a ceremony in Cologne on 1 May 1987, Pope John Paul II
beatified Edith Stein, and canonized her in 1998. Her interrupted
autobiography, Life in a Jewish Family (1985), was published
posthumously.

2. Early Phenomenology

2.1 Philosophy of Mind and Philosophy of Psychology

Stein developed her philosophy of psychology in the
Beiträge around the time she was also editing
Husserl’s Ideas II and it neatly ties in with the
latter’s aim of developing a transcendental phenomenological
account of the human person. The systematic connection between the two
main parts of Stein’s Beiträge (“Psychic
Causality” and “Individual and Community”) lies in
the overarching project of the work to carve out the ontological place
of the human person in relation to both the natural and the spiritual
worlds, the latter of which is constituted by social and communal
relations (1922: 3[1], 110[129]).

Three issues sit at the center of Stein’s philosophy of mind and
psychology:

the connections between conscious experiences, (the stream of)
consciousness and the mental and psychic domain;

the motivational laws of the mental, conative and volitional
domain, and

the “intertwinement” (Ineinandergreifen) of
different forms of causality and motivation.

All three issues cluster around Stein’s multilayered account of
causality and her original conception of so-called “psychic
causality”. The notion of psychic causality is introduced
against the background of the traditional determinism/indeterminism
debate, and aims to present an alternative to both a
reduction of the psyche to physical nature and a complete
separation of the former from the latter (1922: 5[2]).

According to Stein, nothing in the emergence of an experiential phase
is determined. It does not make any phenomenological sense to inquire
into determining causes here; experiences simply “flow
along” in a “stream of consciousness” and constitute
“an undivided and indivisible continuum” (1922: 11[9]).
What constitutes their (diachronic and experiential) unity is the
“originally generating” or “ultimately
constituting” (ursprünglich zeugend,
letzt-konstituierend) stream itself (1922: 12[10]). This, in
turn, is unified by the irreducible experiential fact that all
experiences “emanate from one I” (1922:
15[13]).

So far, then, natural causality seems to have no place in the
experiential life of subject. However, as Stein already claims in her
Empathy-book (1917: 66–68[49–51]) and elaborates
throughout the Beiträge, a different form of causality
is at work on the experiential level. The causally efficacious
experiential states in the psychic life of individuals are so-called
“life-feelings” (Lebensgefühle) and a
subject’s “life-power” (Lebenskraft; a term
that originates in Hermann Lotze (1843), but that we also find in
Theodor Lipps (1883), from whom Stein probably takes the term).
Life-feelings are, broadly speaking, best understood as the affective
dispositions of a psychophysical organism that bring about certain
cognitive, conative or affective states. They determine the very way a
subject is aware of and experiences these states. They also determine
one’s own bodily awareness, i.e., one’s “bodily
attunement” (leibliche Befinden; 1917: 87[70]). Stein
characterizes life-feelings as the “momentary state
(Beschaffenheit) of the I—its life-disposition
(Lebenszuständlichkeit)” (1922: 22[22]). If this
disposition is sedimented, it becomes a subject’s life-power
(ibid.; see
sect. 2.2;
see Betschart 2009). Typical examples of life-feelings are weariness,
freshness, vigor, and irritability. Such psychic-bodily dispositions
“effectuate” (wirkend) experiential changes in
“one’s feeling disposed (Sichbefinden)” and
in turn “influence the whole course of the co-occurring
experiences”. If I feel weary, “everything that emerges in
various fields of sensation will be affected by it”, colors will
appear colorless, sounds toneless, etc. (1922: 16[15]; see also 1922:
65[75]; 75[86]).

In order to account for these effects, Stein introduces the notion of
“causality of the experiential domain”.
“Experiential causality”
(Erlebniskausalität) is different from “mechanical
causality” but may still be viewed as an “analogon of
causality in the realm of physical nature” (1922:
16–17[15]. According to Stein’s somewhat idiosyncratic
description compared to the classical Humean conceptions, there is a
tripartite chain of events in mechanistic causation:

a “causing” (verursachendes; e.g., the
movement of a ball) and

a “caused event” (verursachtes Geschehen),
or the effect (e.g., another ball moving), and

a sort of mediating “event” that is the proper
“cause” (Ursache).

Thus, in mechanistic causation, two events are interconnected by a
third, whereas in experiential causation, there are only two
occurrences, jointly causing experiential change. Here, the two
experiences causally interconnected are both subject to
“change”, and jointly effectuate a “change in the
whole course of the simultaneous experience” (1922: 16[15]).
“The life-feeling corresponds to the causing event”, while
“the course of the rest of the experience corresponds to the
caused event” (1922: 17[15]). But the event, referred to as
“the cause” of the experiential change, “is not
inserted between causing and caused event”. It is not
independent from the experiential change, but rather an intrinsic
moment of it. Accordingly, it is impossible for a subject to have
certain life-feelings that have no effect on the course of her
experiences. But what mechanistic and experiential causation share is
that there cannot be causally contradicting events or outright
incoherent requisite outcomes of the causal process. For example,

just as it is inconceivable that a ball that’s flung down rises
up as a result of the pitch, it is inconceivable that weariness
“enlivens” the stream of consciousness. (1922:
17[15–16])

Stein distinguishes three aspects of experiences and asks whether and
how they are subject to psychic-causal influences:

(1) a content that is taken up into consciousness (e.g., a
color datum or enjoyment); (2) the experience (Erleben) of
that content, its being-taken-up (Aufgenommenwerden) into
consciousness (the having of the sensation, the feeling of enjoyment);
(3) the consciousness of that experiencing, which—in a higher or
lower degree—always accompanies it and because of which the
experiencing itself is also called consciousness. (1922:
18[16–17])

Importantly, she argues that all these dimensions are subject to the
psychic-causal influence of one’s life-feelings and psychic
dispositions (1922: 19[19]). For instance,

with mounting freshness, the awareness of the experiencing increases
and so do the clarity, discriminateness, and, we might well say, the
“liveliness” of the contents. (ibid.)

The psyche, then, is characterized by an “incessant occurring
(Geschehen)” and “incessant effecting”
(Wirken; 1922: 27[29]). Indeed, Stein puts forth the
“general law of causality”, according to which
“all psychic occurrences are caused (kausal
bedingt)” (1922: 29[32]). Causality plays an ontologically
constitutive role. There is “no psychic reality without
causality” (ibid.); everything that enters the psychic domain
“owes its existence” and is regulated by life-power, and
life-power alone (1922: 27[29]).

But where does this leave us with regard to individuals being
determined by psychic powers? Stein cautions us that with the
laws of psychic causation “nothing whatsoever is yet
decided” about the issue of determinism (1922: 29–30[32]).
Stein concludes that we have only “probabilistic
inferences” and “vague” laws here (1922: 33[36], see
also 80–81[92–93], 98–99[114–115]). Notice,
however, that it doesn’t follow from the fact that the relation
between psychic causes and their effects cannot be
“exactly predicted” or “determined”
that there are no “intuitively evident (einsichtige)
correlations” to be discovered (1922: 33[36]). Quite the
contrary, and it is precisely the task of the
phenomenological psychologist to explore these. Herein also
lies the originality of Stein’s conception of the laws of
psychic causality vis-à-vis both Humean causality,
where the issue is the temporal separateness and ontological
independence of cause and effect, and the conception of
“vague” nomological correlations that non-exact empirical
and social sciences deal with, which for Stein are exemplified by
“descriptive natural sciences and folk-psychology”
(ibid.). Compared to both these traditional conceptions of causality,
the distinctive feature of a phenomenological psychological
explanation of the causal laws of the psychic domain is that
we can in fact “infer from perceptually given [psychic]
facts” of a given individual her future ones. Importantly,
however, such inferences have only “empirical validity”,
they are always “defeasible or corrigible” by the
experience of the respective subject (1922:
33–34[36–37]).

Moreover, Stein points to another consideration that speaks against
psychic determinism. After all, whether or not a “given state is
exactly determined by the series of preceding ones and can be
measured” depends on whether there is something “other
than merely causal factors” at play (1922: 30[32]).
Indeed, a large part of Beiträge is devoted to exploring
these other factors and their interplay with the psychic and spiritual
states of individuals. Specifically, “the life of the psyche
[is] the result of the interplay of different types of powers”
(1922: 99[115]). Roughly, these are: (1) sensate and (2) spiritual
life-powers, (3) the various motivational and non-motivational powers
resulting from drives, strivings, impulses, inclinations, intentions,
as well as cognitive, evaluative and volitional “stances”
(Stellungnahmen), (4) the will-power of autonomous
individuals, and (5) the motivational forces of the spiritual domain
and the laws of reason. Let us summarize their different roles and
functions vis-à-vis the constitution and the determination of
psychic and mental life.

Stein distinguishes “spiritual” (geistige) from
“sensate” (sinnliche) life-power (1922:
69–76[79–87]). Sensate life-power “roots the psyche
in nature” (1922: 99[115]), namely through the psyche’s
“entrenchment” in the lived body (Leiblichkeit);
and by virtue of the lived body’s dependence on what Stein calls
Physis, a dependence established by the sensate dimension,
sensate life-power grounds the psyche also in “material
nature” (1922: 70[81]). Sensate life-power

transforms the reception of sensory data or to different capacities
for the reception of sensory data, as well as into sensual drives and
their activities. (1922: 99[115])

Notice that the psychic and sensate dimension of the body at stake
here is partly determined by psychic causality and life-power and, at
the same time, is “experienced as bodily-lived states”
(als leibliche Zustände erlebt). In this respect,
Stein’s conception of the sensate dimension of bodily feelings
cuts across the traditional phenomenological distinction between the
lived or felt body (Leib), on the one hand, and the material
body under a third-personal, physical description
(Körper), on the other (see on Stein’s
Leib/Köper-distinction esp. 1917:
56–65[40–48]). While sensate life-power, then, grounds the
psyche in the lived body as well as the material body and nature,
spiritual life-power, “makes the psyche accessible to the world
of objects”. It derives its powers from the “world of
values” as well as from the spiritual power of other individuals
and the “spirit of god” (1922: 99[115]). It concerns all
the dispositions and capabilities of the subject that are required for
engaging in cognitive and creative processes, with different sorts of
values, as well as with other persons and their values (1922:
70–75[81–86]). Spiritual and sensate life-powers, in turn,
are interwoven through psychic causality.

Psychic states and dispositions vary with regard to their
determined/indeterminate and motivational nature. Stein identifies
numerous complex factors that affect the nature of a psychic state or
disposition, such as its teleological nature or purposefulness
(zielgerichtet), whether it is triggered by rational motives
or pure sensory stimuli, or how the subject actively relates to it and
regulates its influences (1922: 53–56[61–65];
60–64[68–74]; 78–80[90–92]). Strivings, for
instance, are subject to psychic causation and affective or evaluative
“stances of the ego” (e.g., delighting over the
pleasantness of an alluring journey) but also to the forces of the
volitional domain (1922: 55[62]). The volitional domain is itself
complex, incorporating efforts (Sichbemühen), intentions
(Vorsatz), volitional acts (Willensakt), volitional
stances (Willensstellungnahme), and the actual initiation of
an action (Einleiten der Handlung; 1922:
48–53[55–60]; 61–64[70–74];
76–80[87–92]). Volitions require, as all other
experiential acts, a certain amount of life-power, and accordingly sap
the life-power of individuals (1922: 76[87]; 80[92]). Intentions, on
the other hand, mediate between volitional stances and actions (1922:
76[88]). As such, intentions derive their force from their own
spontaneous impulses (1922: 78[90]); they constitute the “free
moment” in human psychology.

Motivation is the “enacting” of an experience
“due to (auf Grund) the other, for the
sake of the other” (1922: 36[41]). It is the
“fundamental lawfulness of spiritual life” (1922: 35[39]),
and “subjects the psyche to the rule of reasons” (1922:
100[116]; see also 1917: 122–123[117]). Importantly, motivation is
essentially an egoic activity, whereas psychic causality
works on the pre-egoic level of “pure passivity” (1922:
35[39]). As Stein aptly puts it:

The “fulcrum” by which motives are put into play is always
the I. It performs one act, because it has performed another.
(1922: 36[41])

On the one hand, there is a “radical”,
“unbridgeable” difference between motives and causes
(1922: 41[47]), as we don’t find any motives in non-biological
physical nature; on the other hand, the life of the psyche is infused
with various causal processes, and psychic causality and motivation
variously intersect. Stein elaborates this “intermeshing of
causality and motivation” on the level of sensate and spiritual
life-power, and in the perceptual, affective, sensual, and volition
domain (1922: 64–80[74–92]; see also 1917:
66–68[49–51]). In order to see this, consider
Stein’s intriguing thought-experiment of a purely spiritual
being, lacking a “life-sphere”: a being moved only by
“intellectual motives” would be not so much inconceivable
as literally driveless (1922: 75[87]). It might still grasp certain
values in emotions (see below,
sect. 2.2)
and these might rationally motivate further evaluative or emotive
acts; but ultimately such a being would not have the necessary
initiative required to enact those motives or act upon those values.
Moreover, normally we have distinct, often conflicting, motives, which
are intermeshed with a sedimented history of evaluative reactions to
them. A purely spiritual being could not integrate those motives so as
to arrive at any conclusive decision and would ultimately lack
agency.

To summarize, we can best understand Stein’s theory of
autonomous personal agency, and indeed her overall analysis of
persons, if we appreciate one of the leitmotifs running through her
whole early phenomenological work: the view that experiences can be
more or less “close” to their very anchoring, namely their
egoic or personal core. The idea is that experiential states of
whatever sort (including beliefs, emotions, volitions, cognitive
states, etc.) can impact the self. In turn, their initiation
and their course are impacted more or less by egoic activity,
depending on how much spontaneous engagement and control the I exerts,
or is able to exert, on them (see
sect. 2.2).

2.2 Philosophy of Emotions

Stein’s theory of emotions is propounded in her
Empathy-book (esp. 1917: 65–72[48–54],
116–124[98–106]) and in the Beiträge (1922:
21–29[21–32], 132–138[157–164],
181[217–218]); see also 1920/2004:
128–129, 136–140). It represents a complex elaboration of
the role that affectivity plays in the constitution of personhood, on
how emotions relate to expression, motivation and volition, and how
affective states of others can be empathically grasped. Accordingly,
Stein’s philosophy of emotions intersects with both her
philosophy of psychology and her theory of empathy. While influenced
by Scheler (esp. 1916/1926), Stein’s account is highly original,
in particular regarding the analysis of moods and sentiments,
different levels of affective depth, and a fine-grained elaboration of
the “stratification” of the emotive live of persons.

Partly drawing on Scheler, Stein distinguishes five different strata
of affectivity:

(1) Sensory feelings: On the most basic level, we have
“feeling impressions” or “sensory feelings”
(Gefühlsempfindungen, sinnliche Gefühle), such as
itching, bodily pain, or the pleasure of the taste or texture of food
(1917: 65–66[48–49]). Stein holds a version of
intentionalism regarding bodily sensations (Crane 1998, 78–88).
This is the thesis that pain and other sensory feelings have properly
speaking intentional objects and present parts of the body of the
emoter under certain aspects to her. What is thus intentionally given
to the emoter as an object, however, is not some
“pain-object” but its bodily-felt location. Stein
characterizes such sensory feelings also as “bodily localizable
sensations” (leiblich lokalisierte Empfindnisse; 1917:
58[42]). Accordingly, the pleasure of a taste or texture is
“felt where the food is tasted” or “where the piece
of fabric touches my skin” (1917: 65[48]. Moreover, Stein
attributes to these low-level feelings an intrinsic relation to the
self. In sensory feelings, “I experience my affective
sensitivity (sinnliche Empfänglichkeit) as the highest
and most outer layer of my I” (1917: 118[100]). This concerns
one of the core tenets of Stein’s phenomenology of affectivity:
Different layers of affectivity have different “I-depths”
(Ichtiefe), or different ways and degrees in which emoters
are impacted by affective experiences (1917:
119–124[101–105]).

(2) Common feelings: The next stratum of affectivity is
all-pervasive. One of the key insights of Stein’s account of
emotions is that every conscious experience is always penetrated and
modulated by affectivity. Famously, Heidegger puts forth an
existential-ontological version of this claim, which has also been
further developed in neo-Heideggerian accounts of “existential
feelings” (Ratcliffe 2019). All experiences, including
cognitions, conations, perceptions, and volitions, are
“colored” or “lit up” by, or “submerged
into” what Stein calls “general” or “common
feelings” (Gemeingefühle; e.g., 1917:
65–66[48–49], 86[68], 118–119[100–101]; 1922:
123[145]). They are essentially affective states of the lived
body. For example, weariness, freshness or irritability are not
intentional in the sense that they don’t present or evaluate
particular objects, events or persons. But, like sensory feelings,
they are in a minimal sense intentional: they relate the emoter to her
own overall bodily state and thus indicate the emoter’s
“attunement” (Befindlichkeit), as Heidegger will
later call it. Accordingly, Stein aptly characterizes common feelings
(together with moods) as forms of “self-experiencing”
(Sich-erlebens) (1917: 118[100]). Moreover, like sensory
feelings, common feelings occupy a “Janus-faced position”
(Zwitterstellung): they are not only “in” my
lived body, as it were, but also “in me, they emanate out of my
I” (1917: 65[48–49]).

(3) Moods: The third layer of affectivity is constituted by
moods (Stimmungen). Like common feelings, they constitute an
all-pervasive dimension of our affective lives:

every emotional experience bears [a] certain mood-component
(Stimmungskomponente), in virtue of which emotions emanate
and expand from their initial place and fill up the Ego. (1917:
122[104])

There are two important differences to common feelings, however:
first, moods do not have a “bodily nature” (leiblicher
Natur), they do not “fill out” the felt body as the
common feeling of sluggishness, say, does; hence a “purely
spiritual” being could in principle be subject to moods too
(1917: 65[49]; note that the English translation wrongly states the
exact opposite of the German here). Secondly, moods are intentional in
the sense that they have an “objective correlate: for the
cheerful, the world is submerged into a rosy shimmer” (1917:
108–109[92]; see also 1922: 181[217]). In line with her theory of
psychophysical causation (see
sect. 2.1),
Stein maintains that there are “reciprocal
‘influences’” and interconnections between the
spiritual and the bodily dimension of affectivity, or between moods
and common feelings:

suppose I make a recovery trip and arrive at a sunny, pleasant spot,
[feeling] how a cheerful mood starts to take possession of me, but
cannot prevail, because I feel sluggish and weary. (1917:
65–66[49]; see also 1922: 65–66[75–76])

Moods can also interact with proper emotions, for example, I can have
a “serious” or a “cheerful joy” (1917:
122[104]).

(4) Emotions: “Emotions in the pregnant sense”
(1917: 119[100]), or “spiritual feelings” (geistige
Gefühle) (1917: 66[50]), as Stein also calls them, are
properly speaking intentional states: “[emotions] are always
feelings of something. In every feeling (Fühlen), I am
directed at an object” (1917: 119[100]). Stein also concurs with
what is sometimes called the “foundational thesis”, held
by Brentano, Husserl or Pfänder, according to which emotions are
grounded in or derive their intentionality from some presentational or
representational act (Vorstellung) or cognition (Drummond
2018: 9ff.). This is the reason why a “purely feeling subject is
an impossibility” (1917: 125[107]; see also 1917: 67[50]). On the
other hand, Stein controversially contends that, just as in the case
of moods, a “pure spirit” or a “body-less
subject” may become for example frightened, but will not
“lose its mind”, as the fear will not exerting any psychic
causality. Such a creature will also “feel pleasure and pain in
its full depth”, even if “these emotions don’t exert
any [bodily] effect”. Spiritual feelings are as a matter of
fact bodily felt, but considered in their “pure
essence” “not body-bound (leibgebunden)”
(1917: 66–67[50]).

According to Stein, we must distinguish four affective dimensions with
regard to proper emotions:

their “reach” (Reichweite), which is
“correlated to the level of the value” and
“prescribes the layer, to which it is ‘sensible’ for
me to let the emotions penetrate me” (vernünftigerweise
eindringen lassen darf). For example, I ought not let my
annoyance over an overdue piece of news that I’m waiting for
consume the attention needed for another task that is actually more
important to me (1917: 122[104]);

their “duration”, i.e., the diachronic extension of an
emotion in a subject’s experiential stream, which is dependent
upon the emotion’s depth (ibid.);

the “intensity” of an emotion.

Whereas the factual intensity of an emotion is not subject to
the laws of reason, we can and ought to modulate an
emotion’s impact on our volitions and behavior: I may very well
be completely “filled out” by an actually mild irritation,
which can also endure overly long, or “feel a high value less
intensively as a lower one and hence be enticed to realize the lower
one”. But Stein hastens to add that “being
‘enticed’ (‘verleitet’) precisely
implies that the laws of reason have been violated here” (1917:
123[105]). .

Crucially, for Stein, emotions can be “rationally”
appropriate, and “right” or “wrong”. What
makes emotions subject to rational and normative
correctness-conditions is, once again, their “being anchored in
the I”. Stein considers someone who is
“‘overcome’ by the loss of his wealth, i.e.,
impacted in the core of his I”. The irrationality then consists
of an “inversion of the hierarchy of values” or even
“a loss of emotionally sensitive insight (fühlende
Einsicht) into higher values and the lack of correlative personal
layers”. (1917: 120[101]). Another example is somebody who
enjoys her aesthetic enjoyment itself more than the disclosed
aesthetic values of an art-piece (1917: 121[102]). Finally, there is
another type of inappropriateness that perfectly fits into
Stein’s overall account, but which doesn’t presuppose
endorsement of the theory of value hierarchy or problematic forms of
value-realism (see below): Thus, some have suggested distinguishing
the moral, practical and prudential appropriateness of emotions from
their “fittingness”. Roughly, an emotion E of a
subject S is fitting if E’s target has the evaluative
features which E pertains to affectively present to S
(d’Arms and Jacobson 2000; cf. Mulligan 2017; De Monticelli
2020). Put differently, an emotion is fitting, if it picks out
those evaluative features of the target that really matter
to the emoter herself. Fittingness is an essentially
subject-relative notion. It doesn’t concern any objective
(axiological or moral) properties. Consider Stein’s example
again: if the loss of wealth really matters to the ruined
stock-broker, her utter despair will indeed fit, notwithstanding the
moral status of speculative money; if she, on the other hand, actually
has long hoped that she rids herself of the burden of spending the
rest of her life in figuring out ways of investing her capital, then
her utter despair over the loss will be unfitting.

(5) Sentiments: the final layer of affectivity is constituted
by “sentiments” (Gesinnungen) or affective
attitudes directed toward persons. Stein lists a number of examples,
some of which contemporary philosophers typically subsume under
different classes of affective phenomena, such as love and hatred, or
gratitude, resentment and vindictiveness. While love or hatred are
indeed best characterized as sentiments (as did already Pfänder
(1913), who had a strong influence on Stein), gratitude and resentment
would today be rather subsumed under the class of reactive attitudes,
and vindictiveness is better characterized as an affective character
trait (Deonna and Teroni 2012: 8–9). What unifies this class
of sentiments, according to Stein, however, is that they are
“emotions having other persons as their objects”. Like all
other dimensions of affectivity, they are also “anchored on
different levels of the I (e.g., love deeper than affection)”
and “have personal values as their correlates” (1917:
120[101f.]).

It is an open question whether Stein thinks that all of these five
dimensions of affectivity are intentionally directed at and disclose
values. Emotions and sentiments are fully-fledged intentional states
grasping values, but it is less clear whether sensory feelings and
common feelings or moods (which she also occasionally discusses) do so
too. But what does it mean that emotions “grasp values”?
Stein concurs with early phenomenological views of the
epistemic-evaluative function of feelings: Feelings not only have
evaluative properties of things, persons and state-of-affairs as their
proper intentional objects; they are our most direct, and indeed best,
access to values. It is, however, not clear how to conceive of the
ontological and phenomenological status of values. Stein, like all
early phenomenologists, including not only the so-called
“realist” phenomenologists such as Scheler, Reinach, Stein
or Hildebrand but also the transcendental-idealist Husserl, hold some
form of value realism. But again, it is far from clear what
phenomenological value realism exactly entails, and Stein is rather
silent on that issue. The most charitable reading of Stein’s
realist theory of values seems to be one that cuts across the
following alternative: Either values are first constituted by emotive
acts or they are independent properties of things, persons or events
that emotions merely respond to. According to Stein’s middle-way
account, though value-properties are but intentional correlates of
emotions, in having emotions, we can appropriately or inappropriately
track values. Values, thus, retain a certain ontological autonomy
vis-à-vis emotive acts, but they are not fully independent from
those acts, as it is precisely in having emotions that objects are
properly disclosed as valuable.

In order to understand this position, we must consequently understand
the disclosive function of emotions, or what Scheler, Stein and other
phenomenologists call “value-feeling”
(Wertfühlen). To begin with, it is crucial not to
misunderstand the term “value-feeling” by reifying the
values and value-properties of the evaluated objects upon which
emotions are directed. Furthermore, value-feelings do not
independently track values. Just like “emotions in the pregnant
sense”, they are dependent upon the “knowledge” of
or an intentional acquaintance with the object to which a certain
value pertains. This knowledge is typically constituted by perception
or some other intuitive act, such as imagination. Furthermore, a
value-feeling is an affective phenomenon. But it is not a distinct
type of affective act or feeling (cf., however, Mulligan 2010a,b,
2017).

How, then, are value-feelings and the experience or the feeling of an
emotion related? Stein’s position is again not unambiguous. We
find a few ambivalent passages that are sometimes cited to show that
she does not identify value-feelings and feelings (see
Mulligan 2010a: 236; 2017: 235; cf. Vendrell Ferran 2015a). For example, Stein explicitly
distinguishes between “value-feeling”
(Wertfühlen) and “the feeling of the existence of
a value” as well as between “value-emotion”
(Wertgefühl) and “the depth of a feeling”
(1917: 120[102]). At another central passage, however, Stein claims
that

attempts to distinguish “feeling” (Fühlen)
and “emotion” (Gefühl)

are futile, since they

don’t denote distinct types of experiences, but only different
“directions” (Richtungen) of one and the same
experience. (1917: 117 [98–99]; see also
116–121[98–103])

The systematically most plausible interpretation, in any case, is to
construe, with Stein, the phenomenological relation between the felt
and the evaluative or appraisal function of emotions in terms of a
double-aspect theory (see for a similar account De Monticelli
2020). According to this, Stein does not contrast the act of
value-feelings with the feeling or the emotional reaction that is
triggered by those values; rather, they are just two aspects of the
affective intentionality of emotions (see 1917:
116–121[98–103].

And yet, Stein doesn’t simply identify the act of
value-feeling and the feeling-state; instead, she distinguishes the
two aspects in order to accommodate cases in which a value is
disclosed but precisely doesn’t affectively impact me
(“leaves me cold”), or doesn’t elicit a
corresponding emotion (see 1922: 133–136[159–163]; cf.
Vendrell Ferran 2017). Thus, emotions are disclosing not only
evaluative properties but also something about the appropriateness and
the depth of the felt evaluation, or the emotional experience as such.
When I have a feeling (e.g., joy over x), what is disclosed to me is
not only the evaluative property (joyfulness) of x but that
and how x matters to me or impacts me in a certain
way (as meriting a joyful response from me). A contemporary equivalent
of this view can be found in Bennett W. Helm’s account of
emotions. According to Helm,

emotions are evaluative feelings: feelings of evaluative content,
whereby import impresses itself upon us. (…) we might also say
that emotions are felt evaluations: evaluations that we make
by feeling them. (Helm 2001: 74)

Like for Helm and some other contemporary accounts of affective
intentionality (e.g., Goldie 2000), Stein conceives of the intentional
and evaluative component, on the one hand, and the (bodily) feeling
component, on the other, not as distinct but as inextricably
intertwined (1917: 117[99]).

Emotions also bear an intrinsic evaluative relation to
oneself and indeed a constitutive relation to one’s
personality and personhood. Emotions are essentially self- and
personhood-related. To understand this claim, consider how I-depth and
the depth of a value-feeling are correlated and how value-feelings
have an intrinsic self-evaluative dimension. In an emotional
experience, a subject is not only directed upon the evaluative
features of an object, but also “experiences herself, the
feelings as coming from the ‘depths of her I’”.
(1917: 117[98]) This self-experience is not a bare affective awareness
of ourselves, but of our specific personality:

In emotions, we experience ourselves not only as existing but also as
being such-and-such, the emotions manifest personal characteristics.
(1917: 117[99])

To rephrase in Helm’s terminology: Emotions are felt evaluations
or “feelings of value”, whereby the import impresses
itself upon us. But import can only impress itself upon oneself if
those values are expressive of one’s concerns or of what is
important for oneself.

But there is even more to the relation between emotions and the self.
Emotions not only appraise objects, indicate import for one and
manifest our personality—moreover, and by the same token, they
always have a self-evaluative dimension. Emotions evaluate me
as the subject for whom those objects have value. My emotions thus
always calibrate and recalibrate my “self-esteem”
(Selbstwertgefühl; 1917: 121[103]).

Emotions are also essentially connected to expression, volition and
action. Emotions “motivate” both their expression and
volition (1917: 68–70[51–53];
123–124[104–105]). Stein stresses that there is a
necessary relation between feeling and expression, which is not a
“causal” but “a nexus of essence and sense” or
“an essential relation and a relation of sense”
(Wesens- und Sinnzusammenhang) (1917: 70[53]). The relation
holds even if there is no direct “outer”, facial or
bodily, expression, and the feeling only results in a
“‘cool’ reflection”. How we can then
“see”, “read” and interpret the emotions of
others based on their expressions and actions, is a matter of
sustained analysis of Stein, developed in her account of empathy.

2.3 Other Minds, Empathy and Social Cognition

Stein is best known for her work on empathy, understood broadly as the
apprehension of other subjects. Her contemporaries, such as Scheler or
Walther, repeatedly refer to her dissertation (1917). Today, too, it
is her notion of empathy that is increasingly discussed and viewed as
one the most nuanced phenomenological accounts, on a par with
Husserl’s and Scheler’s analyses.

Most generally defined, empathy, for Stein, is the basic form in which
other embodied, experiencing subjects are given to us. Empathy is not
merely an epistemological tool for accessing other subjects or merely
registering their existence as minded beings; rather, empathy is
itself a distinctive intentional experience. Whereas much of the
epistemological debate of the knowledge of other minds is precisely
based on the mootness of the question of whether there are other minds
or how our knowledge of their existence and their content can be
justified, Stein observes that any debate revolving around the nature
of empathy rests on the tacit assumption that other minds (but not
merely as “minds”) are indeed experientially given to us
(1917:11–13[3–5]).

Stein conceives of such empathetic acts as a sui generis type
of intentional experience directed at the experiential life of other
persons. Empathic acts are sui generis; they are neither
composed of nor reducible to other types of intentional acts (Stein
1917: 16–20[8–11]). They are also distinctive in the way
they present their object and content: even though the intentional
experiences of the other are not first-personally “lived
through” in empathy (or, in phenomenological jargon,
“originarily” (originär) or
“primordially” given to the empathizer), empathic acts are
experienced first-personally. In that sense, empathy is an
originary intentional act, however, it presents non-originary
(nicht originär) contents (1917: 15–16[7–8];
51[34]). And yet, the non-originary contents given to me are
not non-originary simpliciter, but rather the originary
contents of another subject (1917: 24[14]; 28[17]). It is
due to this peculiar nature of intentional presentation of
another’s experiences that empathy always preserves a self-other
differentiation, and, indeed, involves an awareness of such on the
part of the empathizing subject (1917: 27–29[16–18]).

Importantly, the fact that empathy is a sui generis form of
intentional experience doesn’t preclude it having a
multi-layered structure, sharing characteristic features with other
intentional acts (notably, perception, imagination, memory, and even
anticipation of own future experiences), amounting to more complex
forms of interpersonal understanding. Quite the contrary: One of the
chief merits of Stein’s account is that she offers a
multi-dimensional account of empathy that doesn’t stop short at
describing empathy as

the experience of foreign consciousness in general, irrespective of
the kind of the experiencing subject or of the subject whose
consciousness is experienced. (1917: 20[11])

Specifically, Stein argues for the following three claims:

there is a basic form of empathy that shares key features with
ordinary (outer-)perception without being reducible to it;

our empathetic experience is not limited to its basic form but
includes more complex forms of empathetic understanding;

empathy must be markedly distinguished from further types of
other-directed acts, such “fellow feeling” or
“feeling-with” (Mitfühlen) (as in “I
feel your grief”) or sympathy (“I feel with your
loss”) and compassion, as well as from imitation or mimicry,
emotional contagion, affective unification or
“feeling-one-with” (Einsfühlen), and finally
from forms of “feeling together” or emotional sharing
(Miteinanderfühlen) (“We grieve for our
loss”).

Let us briefly unpack these claims and point to some connections
between them.

(1) Basic empathy: Stein holds a nuanced version of what
today is called the “direct perception” account of social
cognition According to this account, in typical interpersonal
encounters, we can directly perceive that another is in a
particular mental, psychological or affective state (Dullstein
2013; for some recent accounts, see Gallagher 2008; Smith 2010; Zahavi
2011; Krueger 2012; Krueger & Overgaard 2012; Varga 2020).
In order to grasp, say, that my interlocutor is embarrassed, I do not
need to activate any cognitive processes other than perceptual ones.
In particular, I do not need to engage in complex inferential
processes, explicit recollection drawing on one’s own
experiences, or in any conscious imaginative perspective-taking or
non-conscious simulation process. Rather, I can directly
“see” another’s embarrassment in her blushing or her
change of voice. I thus grasp the other’s experience in and
through her communicative or bodily comportment, including her
gestures, modulations in tonality of speech, or facial expression.
Stein restricts her analysis to those forms of comportment that the
other enacts with a communicative intention and which express
experiences that she actually lives through and is aware of. However,
Stein suggests that it might also be possible to have an empathic
grasp of the other’s “personality” by apprehending
her “whole outer habitus, her manner of moving and her
posture” (see also below) (1917: 96[78]).

Now, in the contemporary theory of mind debate on mindreading (Davies
& Stone 1995a, 1995b), the direct perception account has been
pitched against the “theory theory of mind” and
“simulation theory”. According to the theory theory of
mind, roughly, one infers another’s mental life by attributing
to her certain beliefs and desires on the basis of a
(folk-psychological) “theory of mind” (e.g., Baron-Cohen
1995). According to simulation theory, to explain and predict
other’s behavior, social cognizers run certain simulation
processes and create so-called “pretend states” (beliefs,
decisions, etc.) in their own representational working model (their
own mind), and project this mental model onto the other’s mind
(Gordon 1995), or automatically “replicate” the
other’s behavioral expression and tendencies by innate
mirror-neurons (Gallese & Goldman 1998). Some have also proposed
“hybrid” explanations, combining elements of the theory
theory of mind and simulation theory (e.g., Goldman 2006). As
defenders of the direct perception account have rightly pointed out,
both accounts rely on the general, and problematic,
assumption that other minds are inherently opaque and not directly
observable; only if we assume such an unobservability thesis, do we
need to refer to either conceptual inferences or mental simulation (or
both) for mindreading (Gallagher 2008; Zahavi 2011).

But how exactly is, say, the distress of another subject
perceptible or given in a bodily countenance? Stein analyzes
the precise nature of the relation between expression and what is
expressed (1917: 93–103[75–84]) and concludes that it must
not be conceived as any sort of referential, symbolic, associative or
inferential relation. Rather, what empathic perception directly grasps
is the “unity” between the bodily expression of an
experience and the experience itself (a unity that is also given to,
and indeed experienced as a unity, by the other). The underlying
phenomenological claim is that the other’s body is not given
purely as a physical entity (Körper), a meaningless
“container” of experiential items, but as a lived body
(Leib), as the visible field of always already
expressive phenomena. Accordingly, the distress is
“co-given” in the distressed countenance, and the two
“form a natural unity” (1917: 95[77]). The unobservability
thesis only follows if we assume that the only directly visible
properties of another person are the meaningless physical events that
the body is displaying. Once we appreciate that we are directly
grasping the sense of another’s expressive bodily behavior in
empathy, the need to refer to conceptual inferences or simulation
processes to penetrate some allegedly opaque bodily barriers loses its
motivation.

In endorsing the direct perception account, Stein aligns with most
classical phenomenologists such as Scheler (1913/26), Husserl (e.g.,
1952, 1973) or Merleau-Ponty (1945). Like these authors, she rejects
both the core tenet of one of the most influential theories of empathy
of her time, namely Lipps’ theory of empathic mimicry or
imitation, which can be viewed as a forerunner of the simulation theory, and
also of Lipps’ opponents, the so-called “theory of
inference by analogy” account, that she attributes to John
Stuart Mill (1917: 41[26]).

According to the theory of inference by analogy, we infer from the
observation of the correlation of our own experiences to our own
physical body and its modifications that another’s bodily
modifications, expressions and behavioral output must be also
correlated with (particular) experiences. In contrast, Stein again
claims that it would be phenomenologically “absurd” to
describe our encounter with others as if we first perceive mindless
bodies. Rather, perception-like empathy acquaints us ab ovo
with embodied minds.

Stein’s argument against simulationist accounts and Lipps’
proto-simulationist account is more complex (see Stueber 2006 and
Zahavi 2010). For Lipps, when perceptually faced with a bodily gesture
or the countenance of another, the empathizer feels a tendency to
(inwardly) imitate the bodily contortion, a sort of innate
“inner imitation” (Lipps 1903: 121; 1907: 718–719;
1909: 228). For Lipps, empathy, however, typically doesn’t
terminate in such mimicry. Rather, the automatically reproduced and
projected affect usually exerts an affective pull upon oneself, such
that one eventually comes to feel the other’s emotion
“with her”. Lipps claims that empathic mimicry lies at the
origin of the affective transference process and also that
“empathy directly involves a tendency to co-experience
(Miterleben)” (1907: 721). Moreover, he holds that in a
proper act of empathy there is only one I given, namely the
empathizer’s own experience that she projects upon the
other. Only after stepping out of the empathic stance, does the
empathizer cease to be “bound” to the empathic target. She
then faces the other as an object, whereby a “division” of
the initially unique I (Teilung jenes einen Ich) and an
“awareness of a plurality of individuals” ensues (Lipps
1909: 231). Stein clearly rejects this view: For, if we actually were
to “put ourselves in the place (an die Stelle von) of
the foreign subject”, by way of “suppressing” that
there is another I and only eventually ascribe our own surrogate
experience to the other, we would only have a “surrogate of
empathy” (1917: 24[14]). Grasping another’s experiences
entails a clear self/other distinction, which cannot be established by
the projection of one’s own (reproduced) affects onto another,
but precisely involves empathy as an other-directed act.
Relatedly, a “taking over” of foreign affects by emotional
contagion—which may or may not lead to an affective unification
(Einsfühlung) with the other (cf. Stueber 2006:
8)—rather than facilitating empathic understanding actually
“prevents our turning toward or submerging ourselves in the
foreign experience, which is the attitude characteristic of
empathy” (1917: 36[23]; 1917: 35–36[22–24]).

(2) Beyond basic empathy: For Stein, empathy is not limited
to a direct-perceptual grasp of another’s bodily comportment or
expression. Rather, a more detailed empathic explication involves a
form of experiential reenactment of the other’s experiencing and
a form of perspective-taking that is similar to, but not reducible to,
imagination. Another’s experiences have their own thick
qualitative and motivational contents, which exert a certain
motivational “pull” on me, namely to
“explicate” them further, in order to properly
understand them.

Stein conceives of the empathic encounter as a three-step-process. The
empathizer need not run through all of them, and may repeat any of the
steps, depending on the situation or her interest in dwelling deeper
on the experiential life of the other. The process involves:

the emergence or appearing of the other’s experience
(Auftauchen des Erlebnisses) in and through her bodily
comportment and expression; here, the experience is immediately given
to the empathizer in direct perception but is still largely
unspecified as to the other’s further dispositions, motivations,
etc.;

the empathizer may then bring this unspecified experience to an
explicative fulfillment (erfüllende Explikation);
and,

to a “synthesizing objectification (zusammenfassende
Vergegenständlichung) of the explicated experience”
(1917: 19[10]), which can then be reflected and dwelled upon.

First, I encounter the other’s sadness, apprehended directly in
her posture, her facial expression or her tears, which are given to me
perceptually; building on this apprehension, I eventually explicate
the experience, the mood, etc., that has led the other to experiencing
the sadness, and I myself experientially fill out the
necessary details; finally, the explicated experience is given to me
as the experience of another subject, and thus “faces me”
as a proper intentional object (1917: 19[10], 51[34]).

Stein describes the second step “as being at the foreign I and
explicating her experience by reliving it through” (1917:
51[34]). Importantly, as Stein maintains in her criticism of Lipps, we
should not understand this in a way that compromises the
self/other-distinction presupposed in empathy and amounts to an
affective unification or fusion with the other
(Einsfühlung) (1917: 22–23[13–14];
27–29[16–18]). In empathically reenacting another’s
experiences, I am “‘alongside’ the other”
(“bei” ihm) but never “one
with” (eins mit) her (1917: 28[16]).

However, Stein holds that proper empathetic comprehension of
the other’s experiences requires a third step, and in
this regard her account is not altogether different from Lipps’.
For it is only with the third step, the “synthesizing
objectification”, that the sadness of the other is again given
to me as an intentional object properly speaking, and which I can
eventually reflect upon (1917: 51[34]).

An important issue that remains unaddressed by Stein is whether we
should interpret the explicative, objectifying and reflective steps
two and/or three as some form of imagination or imaginative
perspective-taking. Stein nowhere explicitly characterizes either of
the two as imagination (unlike Adam Smith, for instance); the only
hint we have to this effect is that, in dismissing Scheler’s
(1913/1926) notion of empathy as “inner perception”
(innere Wahrnehmung), she suggests rather to use, if at all,
“inner intuition” (innere Anschauung), as this
latter notion would capture the non-originality of foreign experiences
as well as that of one’s own recollected, anticipated and
imagined experiences (1917: 51[34]). Presumably, Stein
follows Husserl who believes we may imaginatively fill out
the empathized experience but we do not necessarily have to do this
(similar to the case of other “empty intentions”). (For
detailed analyses of this three-step process, see Dullstein 2013, Shum
2012; Svenaeus 2016 and 2018; for an often ignored, but interesting
alternative procedural description of the different steps of the
empathic process of Stein, see Stein 1920/1924: 149–175).

What is, at any rate, beyond doubt is that none of the empathic steps
entails simulation in Lipps’ sense or in that of standard
contemporary simulationist accounts. (For a neo-Lippsian
simulation-theorist, however, that comes close to Stein’s
account, see Stueber 2006; cf. Jardine 2015.)

Stein’s multi-dimensional account attributes to empathy the
power to grasp not only another’s dispositions and motivations
but also the social context of a person’s motivational nexus, as
well her personal character (1917: 132–134[114–116]; see Jardine 2015; Taipale 2015a,b; Jardine & Szanto 2017). What is
more, Stein argues that empathy—precisely in cases when the
other’s experiential life is markedly different from one’s
own—(epistemically) contributes to the “constitution of
one’s own personhood” (1917: 134[116]) and to one’s
“self-evaluation”. The reason is that

we not only learn to make ourselves into objects (…) by empathy
with differently composed personal structures we become clear of what
we are not, what we are more of less than others. (1917: 134[116])

(3) Distinguishing empathy: Stein not only rejects Lippsian
simulation theories but would also reject a neo-Lippsian understanding
of empathy that has lately gained much currency, namely the view that
empathy entails a form of affective sharing. According to a prominent
version of this account, empathy

is itself an affective state and specifically one that involves,
amongst other features,

a certain “interpersonal similarity”, i.e., some
relevant similarity or isomorphism between the affective state of the
subject and that of the target of empathy, and

a form of “care” for the affective state of the
other, which brings it closer to what is usually called sympathy
(though it cannot be reduced to sympathy)

Indeed, we can find resources in Stein’s work for developing, as
Svenaeus (2018) suggests, a notion of “sensual” and
“emotional” empathy, and empathy, at least typically, has
some “sensual basis” (cf. 1920/1924: 164–165; 1917:
108[92], 127[109]). And yet, there is nothing to suggest that we
should characterize Steinian empathy generally as a
“feeling”, even if one were to distinguish
(non-intentional) feelings from (intentional) emotions, as Svenaeus,
albeit in different ways as Stein proposes (see
sect. 2.2,
Stein 1917: 117[98]). Rather, according to Stein, we need to properly
distinguish the sensual basis, the perceptual and more complex
cognitive components of empathic understanding, as well as empathy
grasping another’s emotions and empathy grasping, say,
another’s motivations or doxastic attitudes.

Moreover, Stein and her fellow phenomenologists are careful not to
conflate empathy with other forms of interpersonal and collective
engagements—be they empathy-based (such as sympathy, collective
intentionality, fellow-feeling or shared emotions) or not
empathy-based, pre-intentional or subpersonal forms of
intersubjectivity (such as mimicry or emotional contagion). Having
said this, there are a number of points of agreement between Stein and
the emotional empathy account. In particular, three points should be
borne in mind:

Stein would certainly not contradict the point raised by Svenaeus
that empathy of the emotional type facilitates sympathy. Yet, there is
nothing to indicate in Stein that only affectively poised empathic
stance towards the other (what Svenaeus (2018) calls “sensual
empathy”) or empathy with an emotion of the other (what he calls
“emotional empathy”) will result in sympathetic
feeling-with.

Stein probably would also agree that “sharing” the
others’ emotional state, in the sense of affectively
re-experiencing it, might enhance our understanding of the other.
However, again, empathic understanding doesn’t necessarily
require such sharing. Moreover, to refer to (affectively)
re-experiencing another’s emotions as “sharing”
unduly deflates properly joint- or “we”-forms of emotional
sharing. This brings us to the final point,

It is certainly true that Stein acknowledges various forms of
“we”-intentionality, including experiential and emotional
ones (see
sect. 2.4),
and she also holds that the latter necessarily presuppose some form
of empathy (see Zahavi 2014, 2015). But that just reiterates the point
that the two forms of relating to others are not identical.

2.4 Collective Intentionality and Social Ontology

Stein’s contribution to the philosophy of sociality goes far
beyond her investigation of interpersonal or empathic relations.
Though empathy is a necessary basis for any form of sociality, it is
certainly not sufficient for all forms of being-together. Accordingly,
in her two books, Beiträge zur philosophischen
Begründung der Psychologie and Geisteswissenschaft (1922)
and Eine Untersuchung über den Staat (1925), Stein
discusses a complex range of social entities and facts and the
mechanisms that constitute them. Initially, Stein follows her
phenomenological contemporaries (Scheler 1916/1926), as well as
earlier social psychologists (Le Bon 1895) and sociologists
(Tönnies 1887/1935; Simmel 1908; Litt 1919) in distinguishing
three general “types of socialization”
(Vergesellschaftung) (1922: 110[130]): the “mass”
or “crowd” (Masse), “society”
(Gesellschaft), and “community”
(Gemeinschaft) (1922: 230–246[283–295]; see
Szanto forthcoming). But Stein not only adds to this her systematic
analysis of the state (1925) (see
sect. 4.1),
in her treatise on “Individual and Community” (1922), she
offers an unprecedentedly fine-grained phenomenological analysis of
the cognitive, experiential, intentional, volitional, affective and
moral life of communities in general. Before elaborating the nature of
communities, let us briefly demarcate it from the crowd and societies
or associations.

Roughly, crowds are ad-hoc and temporary social formations, chiefly
characterized by automatic mimicry of one another’s emotional
expression and behavior. These eventually converge, not by being
centered on a common goal or by sharing collective intentions, but by
so-called “psychic” or emotional “contagion”
(1922: 148–159[175–191]). Typically, individuals will not
even be aware of the psychodynamics at play. This makes them prone to
“mass contagion” and “mass suggestion”(Stein
1922: 201–212[241–261]).

In sharp contrast to crowds stand the two main “types of
living-together” (1925: 5[2]): society, with its various forms
of institutional associations, and community. Both involve what today
is usually called “collective intentionality” (Jankovic
& Ludwig 2017). Though they are not exclusive and typically come
in “mixed forms”, there are crucial differences between
the two: Societal formations are essentially instrumental associations
of individuals who treat each other “as objects”;
whereas, in communities, individuals encounter each other “as
subjects” and as “living with one another”
(1922: 111[131]; cf. 236–243[283–291]). In associations
individuals are bound together by common, but often purely
egoistic, interests and pursue their common goal by way of
“rational” and “mechanistic” planning. In
contrast, communities are bound by “the bond of
solidarity” (ibid.). This entails that the members are
“open” (geöffnet) towards each other and
“let each other’s attitudes and evaluations penetrate one
another and deploy their mutual influence on each other”. Thus,
solidarity is not some “static” bond but must be
dynamically maintained (1922: 177–178[194]).

For Stein, the solidarity required for communal life is
experientially grounded. Members of a community can only
constitute a true community of solidarity if they are bound together
by so-called “communal experiences”
(Gemeinschaftserlebnisse), and jointly constitute a so-called
a “supra-individual” (überindividuell) or
“communal stream of experiences” (Erlebnisstrom der
Gemeinschaft) (1922: 112–122[133–145]). This stream
has its own motivational and psychic-causational laws (1922:
140–148[167–175]) and its own life-power (1922:
167–174[201–210]).

Communities, according to Stein, can share intentions and
volitions and jointly perform actions (1922:
159–163[191–196]). Moreover, communities can also
“feel together”, i.e., share emotions. Further,
communities can share values (1922:
189–191[226–228]) and are “moved by common
motives” (1922: 178[215]). Their members can take
“evaluative and practical stances”
(Stellungnahmen) that pertain to the community (1922:
176–179[211–214], 244[292]). They may even engage in
collective practices of imagination (1922:
126–127[147–148]; cf. Szanto 2017). And they bear, though
only in a restricted sense (see below), “common
responsibility” (1922: 162–163[195]; see Szanto
2015b). Finally, communities even exhibit certain intellectual
capacities and virtues (e.g., having a distinctive esprit)
(1922: 188–189[225–226]), and indeed, as Stein discusses
in detail, bear a certain “personality” or personal
“character traits” (1922: 199[238];
219–221[262–264]; 227–236[272–283]).

For Stein, then, communities can exhibit the same types of
intentional experiences that individuals can, and be
attributed all the same spiritual, axiological, psychic, and indeed
personal features. In order to see the full implication of this bold
claim, and in particular, the genuinely collective dimension
of communal experiences, consider the following example:

I empathize or sympathize with your grief for
your dead child.

I (individually/personally) grieve for our child.

I, as a parent, grieve for our child.

We, parents, grieve for our child.

In (a), we have an interpersonal relation founded on empathy,
with no form of sharing whatsoever (see
sect. 2.3).
In (b), there is a shared intentional object, but no shared
experience of relating to it. With (c), we are getting closer
to the phenomenon, but we still only have a shared object and what
might be called “social identification”, whereby an
individual’s experience is in some sense affected by the fact
that she conceives of herself as a member of a group.

In Stein’s account, communal experiences are experiences in the
sense of (d). Stein offers a multi-dimensional account of communal
experiences. Following three core aspects of intentional acts, it has
become customary to distinguish content or object,
subject and mode accounts of collective
intentionality (see Schweikard & Schmid 2013). A distinctive
feature of Stein’s account is that she refuses to locate the
seat of sharedness in any of these three dimensions in isolation.
Instead, she investigates their interconnections. What’s more,
she offers an elaboration of the mechanisms responsible for
conjoining both individual experiences into a communal stream
and their various interconnections within that stream.
Specifically, Stein discusses the distinctively collective nature of

supra-individual objects;

the collective intentional acts directed upon these
objects and their sharedness;

the irreducibly communal content of collective
experiences; and

the nature and mechanisms underlying their integration into a
communal stream of experiences.

Let us elaborate these in turn:

(1) Supra-individual objects: The first requirement for
collective experiences is fairly straightforward; as Stein puts it,

the essence of communal life [lies] precisely in the fact that the
subjects are not directed at one another, but jointly turned toward an
objectivity (einem Gegenständlichen zugewendet). (1922:
225[270])

This delimits the range of possibly shared experiential states: Only
experiences that have intentional objects can be shared.
Concerning affective experiences, only those that appraise objects,
events, etc. with evaluative properties can be shared, viz.
intentional feelings (e.g., grief, joy, fear, etc.), moods and
sentiments (e.g., confidence, trust, admiration). Purely sensory
feelings (e.g., pain, sensory pleasure or bodily excitement), tied to
individuals’ felt body location and lacking extra-bodily
intentional objects, cannot be shared (1922:
137–139[163–165]). However, as we will see, communities
can indeed be attributed life-feelings and psychic and spiritual
life-power of their own.

(2) Collective intentional acts: The second distinctive
feature of communal experiences for Stein is what might be called
double-direction of collective intentionality. First, there
is the ordinary intentional focus upon the shared, supra-individual
object. Second, in every communal experience, individual members
instantiate an “intention upon the communal experience”
(Intention auf das Gemeinschaftserlebnis) (1922: 116[137]).
For example, when grieving together, my experience is not only about
or directed upon “our loss” but at the same time on the
fact that we share the experience of the loss.

(3) Communal content: That individual intentions are jointly
directed upon the same object means also that they have a
“content of communal experience” (Gehalt des
Gemeinschaftserlebnisses) (1922: 116[137]): “a unity of
sense.” (1922: 117[138]). The unitary sense does not
exclude, however, fine-grained individual variations in the
experiential content. All that is required of the individuals is that
their experiences have the same “core of sense”
(Sinnkern) (1922: 117[136–137];
138–139[164–165]). This allows for “manifold”
individual “experiential coloring”
(Erlebnisfärbung) (1922: 113[134f.], 115[136]). On the
other hand, individuals’ experiences are just as much colored by
the fact that they don’t have the respective experience
privately, but precisely as members or “in the name
of” (1922: 114[134]) the community. This “reciprocal
feedback” (Rückwirkung; 1922: 132[157]) or
coloring of the personal by the communal can be best understood
counterfactually: Individuals would not have the (same) experiences
they have if they were not members of a given community, or were there
no community (at some time or another). And there is a normative
dimension to this unity: shared intentionality has conditions of
fulfillment that are determined by what is an appropriate intentional
response, given (a) the specific intentional object and (b) the
specific community at stake (see Szanto 2015a):

The intention to realize the communal experience can be fulfilled much
more extensively than the intention to do justice to what is demanded
by the object –for instances in cases where the content of the
communal experience falls considerably short of what is required of
it. On the other hand, the content of the individual experience can
very closely approximate what is required by the supra-individual
object, and yet by no means does it need to coincide with the content
of the communal experience. This can be the case because (…),
for example the event in question (…) can be falsely evaluated
by single members as to its significance for the community. (…)
[In that case there is] divergence of the individual contents from the
intended collective content (…). (1922:
116–117[137–138])

(4) Communal stream of experiences: What about the
subject of the communal experiences and the notorious
communal stream of experiences into which individual
members’ experiences are embedded? To begin with, notice that
the communal stream is founded upon the “contribution”
with which the individual experiences “furnish” it (1922:
138[164–165]; see also 119[141], 121–122[143–145]); it
does not exist above and beyond these contributions.
“Contribution” must not be understood as a sort of
summative piling-up or aggregation of individual experiences (see also
Krebs 2020): “the relation between individual and
communal experiences is constitution, not summation” (1922:
122[144]). Moreover, Stein warns us not to misunderstand her notion of
“communal subject” (Gemeinschaftssubjekt) as if
there were some supra-individual “owner”, or some
“super-ego”: “a community-subject, as analogue of
the pure ego, does not exist” (ibid.). Similarly, there is
always also a plurality of supra-individual
experiential streams, which do not unite into one single communal
stream constituted by some “super-community” or the entire
community of all conscious beings. (1922:
139–140[165–166]).

Now, the supra-individual stream must not be confused with a
collective consciousness. For consciousness is a
constituting rather than a constituted phenomenon;
following Husserl, Stein holds that the constituting
consciousness—the “ultimately constituting stream”
of experiences (letztkonstituierender Fluß)—is
essentially egoic, and ipso facto individual in nature (1922:
118–119[140–141]). Accordingly, the communal stream is as
a constituted stream, constituted by individual’s
“pure egos”. And yet, in communal experiences, the
respective subjects of experience and the “individual
personality” of the members are modified in a certain way and
impacted by the very communal experience. In terms of the modified
subject of communal experiences, we must assume a certain
“collective personality”
(Gesamtpersönlichkeit; 1922: 114[135], see also 227[272]). A
good way to understand this claim is by considering the distinction
between the “phenomenal” and the “ontic
subject” of shared experiences (Schmid 2009: 65ff.). While the
phenomenal subject of the communal stream is a communal one, its ontic
bearers are the individual members (1922: 114[134]). (This
certainly should not imply that Stein holds that all
constitution, and in particular the constitution of the shared values
and objects, or the life-world, is reducible to individual processes.
Quite the contrary: Like virtually all phenomenologists, Stein
stresses the importance of intersubjective constitution, which is
accomplished precisely by communities of individuals acting together; 1922: 139–140[165–166].)

Large parts of Stein’s treatise are devoted to further
specifying the “structure” of communal experiences (1922:
112–122[133–145]), the “elements” it contains
(such as imaginations, categorical acts, intentional feelings, etc.)
(1922: 122–139[145–165]), the mechanisms integrating the
individual experiences into the unified communal stream (1922:
139–147[165–175]; 159–163[191–196]), and
finally its own personal, psychic and spiritual life (1922:
163–199[196–238]) (see also Burns 2015; Caminada 2015).
Roughly, the communal stream has a temporally structured internal
coherence, with its own “associative”,
“motivational”, and “causal” mechanisms
conjoining the individual experiences into an experientially coherent
“integrate” (1922: 141–147[167–175]).
Experiences also affect one another by “psychic” and
“volitional causation” (1922:
159–163[191–196]). Accordingly, the communal stream
exhibits its own life-feelings as well as psychic and spiritual
life-power (1922: 145–147[172–175]; 167–185[201–203]). Communities can be more or less
productive, energized, etc., depending on the contribution of the
life-power of the participating individuals. In turn, the communal
life-power feeds back on the individuals’ life-power (see
Müller 2020).

Though the individuals’ mental and psychic life (incl. their
attitudes, life-power) are variously influenced—and indeed, in
their social identity, or as members of a community
co-determined—by communal life, their autonomous
(affective and moral) psychology is never “outflanked” or
“overridden” (Pettit 1993) by the community (1922:
234[280], 247[296], 224–227[268–271]). Just as they never
lose their “individual distinctiveness” (1922: 226[271]),
individuals are never “cleared” of their (moral)
responsibility for their individual or communal deeds by the
community. Communal responsibility for Stein doesn’t simply
“suspend” individual responsibility (1922:
162–163[194–196]; 225[269]) Thus, despite occasional
appearances to the contrary, which may result from misleading notions
such as a “character”, or “personality of the
community” (1922: 227[272]), Stein’s account of community
steers clear of any problematic form of collectivism (see Szanto 2015b
and forthcoming).

In conclusion, Stein’s account of collective intentionality is
of continued interest to the contemporary landscape. In particular,
she offers a middle-way between the Scylla of methodologically
individualist or reductionist accounts and the Charybdis of
collectivist or fusional accounts (e.g., Schmid 2014; Krueger 2016) of
shared experience. At the same time, she specifies different types and
layers of experiential sharing, their normative dimension and the
various (intentional, cognitive, affective, etc.) mechanisms
responsible for integrating them.

3. Phenomenological Ontology and Philosophical Anthropology

3.1 The Question of Being

Following her conversion in 1922, Stein immersed herself in Christian
philosophy, especially St. Thomas Aquinas, translating De
Veritate (Stein 2008a,b). Having “found a home in
Aquinas’s thought world” (Stein 1931: 4[3]), but remaining
loyal to phenomenology, she sought to integrate phenomenology with
Thomism which she did in an original way, connecting Husserl’s
concept of spirit (Geist) with the Christian personal God.
Husserl proceeds from the transcendental standpoint of the meditating
ego, Aquinas’ position is naive realism. Stein, therefore,
criticized Husserlian transcendental philosophy for seeking to
establish objectivity from within subjectivity (1993: 33[32]). Her
phenomenological ontology, furthermore, offered a Christian
alternative (“infinite Being”) to Heidegger’s
account of being as finitude. Stein’s ontology is found
primarily in Potency and Act (1931) and Finite and
Eternal Being (1950/2006), both of which contain original
discussions of essence (Wesen) and of being (Sein)
that deserve fuller examination over and against Heidegger or
Conrad-Martius’s accounts.

Stein defines ontology as the science of the “basic forms of
being and of beings” (2000c: 161[182]). In agreement with Aquinas
and Husserl, she holds that ontological concepts can be discovered by
“logical reasoning” (1931: 17[22]). She begins from
Husserl’s distinction between formal and material ontologies.
Formal ontology, for Stein, considers being simply as
”being”, that which is. Thus it arrives at the formal
notion of “something that is” or just
“something” (1931: 22[28]). Formal ontology, for Stein,
following Husserl, studies formal principles such as
“act”, “potency”, “object”,
“individual”, and so on. Formal ontology identifies a
priori conceptual truths such as: “only a perfectly simple whole
can be absolutely actual” (1931: 38[52]). Stein identifies three
fundamental ontological forms: “object”
(Gegenstand), “what” (Was), and
“being” (Sein; 1931: 99[147]). Stein
distinguishes between the species and the concrete individual.
Individual entities have “thisness” or haeccitas
(1931: 29[39]). Invoking Dun Scotus, Stein speaks of
haeccitas, and of “individual essence”
(Einzelwesen; 1950/2006: 79[81]), a concept she also finds in
Husserl. Paradoxically, there is an essence that is responsible for
something being an individual, a particular “this”. Things
have a “possibility of essence”
(Wesensmöglichkeit, Stein 1950/2006: 80[83]), the
capacity to actualize their nature. For Stein, from consideration of
one’s own being and non-being, one can grasp the notion of
actuality and possibility and then argue for the possibility
of full actuality as is found in divine being.

For Stein, “God is pure spirit and the archetype of all
spiritual being” (2003: 127[153]). The essence of divine being
is to be “tri-personal” (1950/2006: 352). God is
“Being-in-Person, indeed the
Being-in-three-Persons” (1950/2006: 307[359]). Spirit in
general, furthermore, is “superabundant, diffusive life”
(1950/2006 351[380]). The life of spirit as such is non-spatial
“movement” (1931: 117[169]). Spirit is active and dynamic
and divine being is “a movement from the inside out (…) a
generating being (…) eternal self-drawing and
self-creating” (Sich-selbst-schöpfen; 1950/2006:
300[351]). All forms of spirit possess “innerness”
(Inneres; Stein 1950/2006: 307[360]) and “goes out from
itself”. Spirit as such has “self-shaping” power
(Gestaltungskraft; 1931: 122[175]) and its essence is to be
“self-giving”. Spirit, for Stein, then, is
“being-in-itself” (Sein in sich selbst),
“for itself”, and “from itself” (a
se). All other beings that are spiritual are founded in this
divine spirit and have their “archetypes” there
(Urbilder; 1950/2006: 307[360]). Ultimately, all forms of
spirit form a unity.

Stein defends the reality of essences. An essence is not just a name,
rather a name is an expression of an essence. Concepts are
human inventions; essences are not (1950/2006: 62[66]). The formation
of concepts is based on grasping the essences (Stein 1950/2006:
72[73]). The being of essences, however, is inefficacious and
potential. What is real or actual is the individual. Stein’s
example of essence is “joy”. Joy becomes actual and
efficacious because of its essence, which is timeless (1950/2006:
91[95]). There exists an individual’s joy. There is no such
thing in the real world as “joy in general” (1950/2006:
75[76]); nevertheless, joy has an “essentiality”
(Wesenheit; 1950/2006: 77[78]) that defines it and
distinguishes it from other emotions. Stein claims essences belong to
objects (e.g. my joy) but “essentialities” are
ideal and are independent of objects (e.g., joy as such) (1950/2006:
72[73]). An object without an essence is unthinkable (1950/2006:
77[78]).

Stein, following both Husserl and Scheler, distinguishes between the
generic or universal essence of a human being (the
“species” – what all humans have in common) and the
individual essences of individual human beings. Explicitly departing
from Aquinas, Stein defends the concept of the essence of the
individual, the differentiation of individuals through spiritual
matter, and the idea of the “unfolding” or
“blooming” (Entfaltung; 1931: 139[209]) of the
soul from its core or seed. In Finite and Eternal Being,
Stein discusses the “individual essence”
(individuelles Wesen) of Socrates (1950/2006: 142[157]), a
determinate form distinct from the general, specific form of
being-human. The form of Socrates unfolds within specific
possibilities contained in its quite determinate essence. The real
Socrates may be different from the man depicted by Plato.
“Being-Socrates” and
“being-the-Platonic-Socrates” are distinct essences,
different possible “forms” of unfolding of what Socrates
is (1950/2006: 142–143[157–158]). The essence
unfolds itself in its faculties and capacities (later called
its “potentiality”). Stein distinguishes between
“unfolding” (Entfaltung) and
“development” (Entwicklung). A person
unfolds from an essence that is already there. Development
refers to other kinds of movement, including the Darwinian idea of
evolution, with which Stein (and also Scheler) was broadly familiar
and which she discussed in her anthropology.

Stein further distinguishes between “species” (understood
as Aquinas’ “forms” which are permanent and
unalterable categories (2000c: 151[173]), and what she calls, following
Husserl, “types”. Types can vary within the limits defined
by the species. A single person can exemplify many types,
e.g., by age, social status, etc. Stein maintains that each
entity—from a plant to an animal or human being—has an
inner “form” (Gestalt) that determines it to
become the thing it is—just as individual seeds become beech
trees or fir trees (2000c: 32[130]).

The subject is the “bearer of spiritual life” (1931:
87[124]). Intentionality is the being of subjective spirit
(1931 85[121]), i.e., it constitutes subjective spirit as such. There
are two sides to spiritual being: “being illumined”
(durchleuchtet) and “being open”
(geöffnet) (1931: 104[154]). Intelligibility
(intelligibilitas) is “being illumined” (1931:
84[123]). “Knowledge is something proper to spiritual
being” (1931: 111[165]) but spirit cannot be just knowing; it
must also have freedom of will (Stein 1950/2006: 341[402]). Stein
claims already in the Beiträge that spirit is openness
(1922: 296[295–296]; see also 1950/2006: 307–308[360]):
openness for an objective world, which is experienced; and
openness for someone else’s subjectivity, someone else’s
spirit. In Potency and Act, she maintains that

being open for oneself and for what is other is the highest and hence
also the most proper form of spirit whereto all other spiritual being
harks back. (1931: 175[255])

“Being open” means being able to engage what is other than
oneself, stand over against it, turn toward it intentionally. (1931:
175[254])

Stein’s concepts of blooming, unfolding and openness are crucial
for understanding her “essentialism” in respect to gender
or sex, as we shall discuss in
Section 4.2
below.

3.2 The Nature of Persons

Stein was concerned with the nature of the “person” from
the beginning of her career, inspired by her teachers Stern, Husserl,
and Scheler. In Empathy, she argues for the
“constitution” of the person in emotional experiences;
feelings “announce personal attributes” (Stein 1917:
117[99]), whereas mere bodily sensations do not (see
sect. 2.2).
Persons are unities, and indeed instantiate value; and each person is
correlated to a “value-world” (Wertwelt; 1917:
136[108]). Her 1922 Beiträge extended her discussion of
persons, developing a layered ontology of body, soul, and spirit, and
discussing her concept of “life-power” in detail (see
sect. 2.1).
In her later works, Stein embeds her phenomenological account of
conscious life into a more Thomistic metaphysical, but also
existential, conception of the person.

Stein agrees with Scheler that a person is
“value-sensitive” or “value-tropic”
(werthaftig; 1922: 190[227]) and has “permeability for
values in general” (1922: 190[227]). Persons are intrinsically
value-dependent, value-recognizing, and value-producing beings:
“we see what a person is when we see which world of value she
lives in” (1922: 190[227]). Love, for example, is an
apprehension of the value of the loved person. Emotions have the
greatest effect on the inner form of the self (1931: 260[381]).
Emotions reveal reality in its “totality and in its
peculiarity” (2000c: 87[96]). The person is in part constituted
through emotions; a non-emotive person is, for Stein, an
impossibility. The emotions, furthermore, enable us to grasp other
persons as value-beings (see also
sect. 2.2
and
sect. 2.3).

Following Husserl, Stein maintains that the person actualizes itself
in his or her uniquely personal acts, either self-directed acts, such
as making a firm decision, or expressing oneself creatively, or
other-directed acts, such as promising, forgiving, that recognize
other persons as persons). Spiritual acts are acts that persons
address to each other as persons (something found also in
Husserl’s Ideas II). The whole person, however, is not
exhausted in any of these acts (1931: 260[381]), but they spring from
the person’s “core”. A person has a depth beyond his
or her acts. Having “depth” is characteristic of the human
soul (1931: 266[390]). The soul can receive something at the depth
appropriate to it; it has “depth-reception”
(Tiefen-Aufnahme, Stein 1931: 255[391]).

Stein also maintains that human beings are “beings in the
world” (2000c: 155[177]). Persons are integrated into both the
material and the immaterial, spiritual worlds (1931: 147[221]):
“The being of human beings is a composite of body, soul, and
spirit” (1950/2006: 310[363]). Humans are necessarily embodied;
the soul is “bound to matter” (stoffgebunden;
1950/2006: 321[377]). Human spirits exhibit
“being-tied-to-the-body” (Leibgebundenheit;
1950/2006: 333[392]). Following Aristotle, she maintains that the body
receives its vitality through the soul (2000c: 86[94]). For Stein, the
soul is the principle of formation, animateness, nutrition, and
reproduction. The soul, furthermore, grows primarily from its
affective nature; he soul is conditioned by the body, but the spirit
can also condition and curb the emotions. In humans, the spirit is
dependent on the senses for its natural activity. “The soul
cannot live without receiving” (Stein 1950/2006: 318[373]).
Human persons as spirits are intentionally influenced and formed
“from above”(i.e., from purely spiritual motivations) and
also “from below” (1950/2006: 310[364]), i.e., from bodily
drives. Spirit arises from a “dark ground”, an
“obscure depth” (1950/2006: 310[364]).

For Stein, the soul is not static and complete but evolving and
developing (Stein 2000c: 85–6[94]), fulfilling its innate
capacities. It is a living “root” (Wurzel) whose
innate capacities have to be activated. The human being actualizes
itself in the acts that come from its subjectivity. Ordinary daily
existence conditions the soul and the spirit (Stein 2000c: 89[98];
1931: 261[383]). Humans can repress actions and shape them. Stein
maintains that the soul has its own inner “openness”
(1931: 266[390]): openness to other subjects but also, following
Scheler in particular, openness to value. The soul, however,
must be open to values to receive them (1922: 193[230]). The soul is
more important than the pure ego:

The pure ego is, as it were, only the portal through which the life of
a human being passes on its way from the depth of the soul to the
lucidity of consciousness. (1950/2006: 420[501])

Persons are psychic wholes or totalities that must be approached as
such. “Every I is unique” (Jedes Ich ist
Einmaliges, 1950/2006: 294[343]) with its own
“peculiarity” (Eigentümlichkeit), that is
incommunicable, even though it also has a “quid”
that it shares with other egos. Every human being has
“unrepeatable singularity” (2000c: 161[182]). In the human
ego, there is a contrast between “ego-life” and
“being” (1950/2006 296[345]). The ego is
“transparent” (durchsichtig) to itself
(1950/2006: 296[345]). For Stein, every person is an ego, but not
every ego is a person. A person must be aware of itself and there may
be egos (e.g., animal egos) that do not have this self-awareness and
transparency. In this regard, to be a person requires a degree of
developing self-awareness.

Stein maintained throughout her work that each human being has an
individual personal “core” (Kern der Person, see
1931: 122[183]; Persönlichkeitskern; 1922: 80[92]) that
remains unchanged and that contains potentiality that can be
actualized. For the personal core, Stein drew on Teresa of Avila
(“castle of the soul”, die Seelenburg, Stein
1950/2006: 315[370]), John of the Cross, Max Scheler, and Hedwig
Conrad-Martius. The person “unfolds” or
“ripens” but the personal core is never completely
“disclosed or disclosable” (1931: 139[200]). This core is
directly knowable only by God. We only actualize some of it in our
finite lives, but, in contrast to Heidegger, we actually are
this deeper core. Our being has a wholeness which our finite life does
not exhaust.

The person’s character properties are its capacities for
apprehending values, and in them the core unfolds itself outwards
(entfaltet sich in ihnen nach außen; 1922: 193[231]).
Kindliness as a character trait doesn’t just show itself in kind
actions; a person can be kindly even if he doesn’t get to do
kind actions (1922: 193[231]). Not everything in the person comes from
the core. Some experiences are “proper to the I”
(ichlich) whereas others are “foreign to the I”
(ichfremd, 1931: 129[186]). Here Stein draws heavily from
Husserl. There are emotional and other sentient traits that are
“indifferent” to the core (1922:
191–92[228–29]). External impressions do not penetrate
deeply into my soul and have little personal involvement (1931:
128[185]). The same sound can slip by me, but if I am concentrating,
it can disturb me and make me angry (1931: 130[187]). It penetrates my
person and affects me inwardly. There are “depths of the
I” (1931 129[186]; also discussed in Empathy (1917) and
Beiträge (1922) (see
sect. 2.1
and
sect. 2.2).
People live at different depth dimensions (1931: 130[188]). The more
a person lives at depth, the more his or her core will unfold. Stein
distinguishes not just between “surface” and
“depth” of the self but also between center and periphery.
I may be concentrating and open a window to get air but don’t
fully notice myself doing it. Penetrating things with understanding is
a work of depth and is an “achievement of the will” (1931:
131[190]).

Stein appropriated the notion of “life” (Leben)
from Husserl, Scheler, Dilthey, and Bergson. Development of the person
continues through life but the person does not cease after death
(1931: 140[202]). The person enters eternity “as what s/he has
become” (was sie geworden ist; 1931: 135[195]). In our
innermost feeling of being alive we remain the same—from child
to adult to old age (1931: 2[21]).

4. Political and Feminist Thought

4.1 Philosophy of State

Stein’s treatise An Investigation Concerning the State
(1925) completes her preoccupation with social reality
(1917–1925). The aim of the book is to provide an
“ontic” determination of the state as a form of sociality.
The guiding question Stein sets out to answer is what “type of
living together of subjects” is distinctive of the state.

According to Stein, the state cannot be grounded in either
“society” or in “community” alone. Unlike
societies or associations, a state cannot be brought into existence by
any act of collective intentionality or “volition”.
Political entities, founded solely on such rational associations,
would at best be “artificial” quasi-states, permanently in
danger of dissolving, like the artificial territories drawn up on maps
of colonial powers (1925: 81[107]). Stein aims to show that states
will be “peculiarly hollow and schematic” if they are not
in some sense or another grounded in communal forms of living together
(1925: 32[37]). However, no “community of the
people”—be it an ethnically defined “people”
or “folk” or some other cultural community founded on
shared values or languages—is a necessary or sufficient
condition to constitute a state either. Accordingly, Stein argues both
against classical contractualism à la Rousseau, Locke or Hobbes
(1925: 40[51]), that asserts a rational but decisionist creation
of the state (Schöpfung kraft eines Willküraktes),
and against traditionalist conceptions of some organic emergence of a
state. For Stein, there is no “either-or” here: though
states may be factually “grounded” in a community or a
society, statehood is not constituted by either (1925:
7–9[4–6]). The “gravitational force [of a state]
rests on its own” (1925: 81[108]). Less metaphorically, a state
constitutes itself by its own sovereign act

The central thesis of the book, then, focuses on the
“equivalence of statehood and sovereignty” (1925: 17[16]).
Sovereignty is not only the “the conditio sine qua non
of the state” (1925: 51[66]), it also represents its defining
nature. A state is essentially a “sovereign sphere of
power” (Herrschaftssphäre) with its own
“governing state-power (Staatsgewalt)”.
Specifically, the sovereignty of a state is a (self-)constitutive
power, instituting not just the state as such, but also its law or
rights (Recht). Hence, “state and law come to life at
the same time” (1925: 48[62]). A state thus bears the exclusive
“right to institute laws” (Recht, Recht zu
setzen) and determines the sphere of persons (and specific forms
of their behavior) for whom those laws apply (1925: 34[40]).

Stein spends a considerable portion of the treatise specifying the
nature of rights and law at stake. In particular, she differentiates
between positive and pure law, subjective, natural, human and civil
rights, discusses the function of the state in interpreting,
enforcing, or adjudicating rights as well as the legal and ontological
status of the state itself as a subject of law (1925: 40[51],
56–73[73–96]). Drawing on Reinach (1913), she first distinguishes
“pure” and “positive law”. Pure law is
a-temporal and applies universally “at all times and for all
peoples” (1925: 33[39]); whereas positive law is created by
spontaneous decisions and hence can vary socio-historically. Based on
this distinction, Stein argues that, “wherever there is no idea
of a positive law, the idea of a state can (…) neither be
grasped” (1925: 64[84]).

But in what sense is the state, as a sovereign entity, the originator
(Urheber) of its own (positive) rights and powers and in what
sense is it a unitary “subject of right”
(Rechtsubjekt) of its own? The gist of Stein’s complex
and somewhat ambivalent discussion (1925: 52–62[68–83]) is
that “being a state means being a subject of
rights” (1925: 119[172]), namely in the sense of a
“juridical person”. Juridical persons are persons only in
a derivative sense; they derive their ability to perform “free
acts”, from fully-fledged individual (natural) persons (1925: 37[46]). The state, then, is the

non-personal entity, the subject, to which all [individual] rights,
inasmuch they are of a positive-legal source, point back to as their
ultimate originator. (1925: 59[77])

On the other hand, Stein applies her account of collective
intentionality (see
sect. 2.4)
to the theory of the state as a “collective person”
(“Kollektiv-Person”). A key assumption is that
the state can only be a unitary, sovereign subject

if there is a sense, in which it can be claimed that it is, as a
totality (als Ganzes), author (Urheber) of
its own acts. (1925: 37[46])

The state, as a collective subject of right, represents individuals
and communities, which empowers individuals, associations or
institutions to act on behalf of the state. But they can only act on
behalf of the state if they are, in turn, “offered” to do
so (angetragen) and thus legitimized by the state itself
(1925: 38[47]). Moreover, individuals and communities must acknowledge
or recognize (anerkennen) the state’s self-institution
and its executive and legislative powers.

With her detailed analysis of the sovereignty of the state and the
specific workings of its rule of law, Stein contributes in an original
way to later—and very different—attempts to clarify the
concept of the state: in particular, Carl Schmitt’s definition
of politics in terms of state’s unique sovereignty and ability
to lead war (Schmitt 1932), and Hannah Arendt’s account of the
role of nation states in integrating pluralities of individuals and
communities into a single body politic, namely by
their—ever-vulnerable—sovereignty to establish and enforce
the rule of law (e.g., in Arendt 1951).

Stein also discusses the ethical value and possible moral obligations
of the state, as well as its role “as a bearer of historical
events”. For Stein, the state doesn’t have any proper
ethical value; rather, values can only be attributed to their
underlying communities (1925: 111[152]). Accordingly, the state cannot
be an ethical subject (1925: 119[172]). The reason is that values and
the obligation to realize or facilitate them can only be
“acknowledged in acts of feeling” (see also
sect. 2.2);
“the state is not capable of such acknowledgment
(Kenntnisnahme), and in particular incapable of
feeling” (ibid.). Ultimately, then, the state can act freely,
and indeed remain a lawful or rightful state, without giving any
consideration to ethical norms. However, that doesn’t exclude
that, via individual state representatives, the state remains
“in touch” with the moral domain and is affected by
ethical demands.

Against the German Idealist tradition, Stein argues that the ethical
idea of the state does not lie in the historical development of
individual freedom (1925: 122[177]); freedom cannot
“develop” but is either given or not, and can at best be
only secured by the state. Rather, the only ethical role of the state
lies in the “formation of a sensitivity” for positive
spiritual and ethical values and the facilitation of the freedom to
realize those values, or the “creation of culture” (1925:
124–125[181]). This partly resonates with Arendt’s famous
dictum that “freedom is the raison d’être
of politics” (Arendt 1961: 146). Yet, and this is where Arendt
and Stein would arguably part ways, the state has only a facilitating
role, even if the historically most powerful one, in “realizing
values”—which is the very “sense of history”
(1925: 126[184]). For Stein, there is nothing in the ontic nature of
state that could ethically demand this role.

4.2 On the Nature and Education of Women

Stein’s writings on the nature of woman (Stein 2000c) are
consistent with her overall anthropology. A committed feminist from
her youth, she was aware of the “great cultural upheaval”
(2000c: 133[152]) in which she, following the suffragettes in England
and similar movements in Germany, was participating. She vigorously
defended the right of women to enter all professions and
branches of education without exception (2000c: 132[105]). She rejected
descriptions of women as “the weaker sex” (2000c: 136[157])
and defended their capacity to work in physically demanding jobs. But
women also had special expertise and should also, for instance, be
involved in framing laws that affected women or children. Stein
personally campaigned for women to be admitted to higher education,
especially for the Habilitation required for university teaching. As
an educator of women at the Dominican boarding school in Speyer, she
wrote on the nature, status, and calling of women. Most of her public
addresses were given to the Catholic Women Teachers Association.

Stein criticized the one-sided development of women in contemporary
society (2000c: 87[96]). The demand for equality has sometimes meant
that the unique nature of women is neglected or downplayed. Stein
criticized the early twentieth-century suffragettes, who, in their
goal to establish equality between men and women, were driven to deny
the distinctiveness of the feminine nature (2000c: 2[254]). Women have
natural vocations to be spouse and mother, but they also have
other talents: scientific, technical, artistic, and so on. All must be
nurtured. She recognized that women of her time had “the double
burden of family duties and professional life” (2000c: 26[54])
which challenged the possibility of personal fulfillment.

Women are essentially different from men. For Stein, women’s
relation of soul to body is different from man’s; the
woman’s soul is more intimately connected to the body (2000c:
86[95]). Moreover, women have deeper and fuller emotional lives (2000c:
87[96]); accordingly, women have a crucial political-social role as
the educators of humanity. Stein insists that all education must take
cognizance of the specific nature of woman (2000c: 141[162]), their
specific spirituality. She claims, whereas men can be abstract, women
are more interested in the concrete totality: “abstraction
in every sense is alien to the feminine nature” (2000c:
19[45]). Women, furthermore, are uniquely oriented to the
personal dimension—something that can be a virtue or a
defect. Women have a unique sensitivity to moral values. Women also
live more intensely through their bodies (2000c: 86[95]). But there is a
danger of the body controlling the soul. Stein, following Aquinas,
argues that the soul is the form of the body, and as men and women
have different bodies, so they must have different kinds of souls
(2000c: 18[45]). It is not the case, as some maintain, that men and
women differ in bodies only and that their minds are unaffected by
this difference (2000c: 162[183]). Men, for Stein, are focused on their
own concerns, women are primarily focused empathetically on
others.

Stein discussed the meaning of “profession”
(Beruf) and “calling” (Ruf), discussions
we also find in the later Husserl. For Stein, the essence of all
education is religious. Men and women are called, in the first
instance, by God. She defends the specifically religious profession
for women—a “supernatural” vocation, requiring
grace. Entrusting the soul to God frees religious women of their
burden; participation in the divine life is “liberating”.
Indeed, she supported the idea that married women could practice their
religious vocation (2000c: 92[102]). In public talks, Stein even
tackled the contentious topic of women priests (2000c:
76–77[83]). The contemporary Church, Stein maintained, has need
of “feminine energies” (2000c: 77[83]), and there is no
dogma preventing women’s ordination (2000c: 77, 139[83, 160]).

Stein also endorses the traditional account of woman as serving and
obedient to the spouse who protects her (2000c: 19[46]). Every soul is
unique (Stein 2000c: 80[88]). Yet there are also different
“types” (Arten) of “women’s
soul”. While she acknowledges that the historical relationship
between the sexes (since the biblical Fall) has been one of lordship
and bondage (2000c: 67[72]), Stein defends the essential difference
between men and women (attested, she believes, in the Genesis story of
Adam and Eve). Male and Female are equal in that both made in the
image of God. For her the prototype for men was Jesus, for women it
was Mary (2000c: 176[198]). Yet, she was aware that “modern youth
has proclaimed its sexual rights” (2000c: 130[149]) and believed
it urgent for Catholics to have a broadminded approach to sexuality to
answer these demands (2000c: 131[150]). Therefore, sex education should
be provided in school for boys and girls alike (2000c: 131[150]).

In summary, Stein held firm views about women’s and men’s
specific natures. But woman’s role is not limited to being
caretakers of the young and “helpmate” to man. Women have
their own specific talents which may contribute to social and public
life in many different ways, based on their individuality. She also
held that women were by nature not just public actors but also had a
specific responsibility for children. Moreover, women were more in
tune with their affective lives, and the highest expression of their
essence was in self-giving love. Thus, she believed in the equal but
complementary status of males and females.

5. Spirituality and Theological Works

Stein’s deep interest in spirituality was initiated by her
reading of Theresa of Avila’s Book of Her Life, but
deepened through her reading of Thomas Aquinas, St. John of the Cross,
John Henry Newman, and Dionysius the Areopagite. Studying Aquinas
convinced her that it was possible to serve God and also do
intellectual work, and she combined her spirituality with intellectual
endeavors. She wrote several mystical studies, most notably
Science of the Cross (Stein 2003). Science of the
Cross studies John of the Cross’s mysticism, his search for
spiritual oneness, and his devotion to love. Stein engages in a
personal meditation on the symbolism of the cross and of night (the
dominant symbol in John of the Cross, Stein 2003: 31[38]). Night is
something natural, invisible and formless, yet not nothing (2003:
32[39]); it is like a foretaste of death (2003: 32[40]). For Stein,
“the night denotes the profound darkness of faith”
(1950/2006: 35[27]). The mystical night comes not from without but
from within (2003: 34[41]). Only by feeling the weight of the cross
can one learn the “science of the cross” (scientia
crucis) which is “buried in the soul like a seed”
(2003: 5[9–10]). The soul must be educated to know God and the
spiritual side of human being must detach itself from the senses
(2003: 95[115]). Surrendering to God in faith makes us pure spirits,
freed from all images and thus in darkness (2003: 97[118]).
“Dark contemplation” is the secret ladder to God.

One of Stein’s posthumous publications was a scholarly essay,
“Ways to Know God”, (in Stein 1993) on the Christian
mystic, Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite. For Stein, Dionysius’
mystical theology is not a scientific discipline but a way to speak
about God. Just as perception always points beyond itself, similarly
our experience of the world points beyond itself to its divine source
(1993: 27[99]). This world is the basis for natural theology. God is
the “primary theologian” (Ur-Theologe; 1993:
27[100]) and the whole of creation is his symbolic theology.
Affirmative theology is based on the analogia entis; negative
theology is based on the dissimilarity between creatures and God. For
Stein, negative theology “climbs the scale of creatures”
to discover that at each level God is not found there: “We draw
near to God by denying what he is not” (1993: 19[88]).

But Stein defends human freedom: “the soul has a right to make
decisions for itself” (2003: 134[161]). She was aware that very
few people live in their inner depths and even less from out of their
inner depths (2003: 132[159]). In her Ways to Stillness she
wrote: “Each of us is perpetually on the razor’s edge: on
one side, absolute nothingness; on the other, the fullness of divine
life” (1987: 12).

6. Conclusion

The publication of the 27-volume Edith Stein Gesamtausgabe
has confirmed Stein as an independent, creative, and highly productive
philosopher, who made original contributions on such diverse topics as
personhood and the apprehension of others in empathy, collective
intentionality and shared experiences, emotions and values, the nature
of the state, the education of women and women’s rights and the
nature of being and essence. Stein was not only in critical discussion
with her contemporaries, including philosophers such as Pfänder,
Scheler, Reinach, or Husserl, psychologists such as Lipps,
Münsterberg, or Stumpf, and sociologists such as Tönnies,
Litt, or Simmel, but her work also harbors rich conceptual,
methodological and systematic resources that are of continued
relevance for a number of recent philosophical and interdisciplinary
debates. While in her earlier writings Stein pursued detailed
phenomenological analyses, in her later work she engaged in
metaphysics, but also in philosophical and theological anthropology
and mysticism. Integrating eidetic phenomenology and Thomistic
metaphysics, Stein ultimately developed a novel systematic account of
social life that is the produce of the actions of free, individual
persons, whose experiences and volitions are rooted in cognitions as
well as emotions and who can attain the level of rational and communal
life that is open to the possibility of a transcendence, lifting
humans beyond their finitude.

Bibliography

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often misleading and sometimes outright erroneous, or leave out
relevant notions altogether, have been modified. Wherever relevant,
original German terms are mentioned in brackets and italics. Wherever
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